


Quite Magical

by tunteeton



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Accidental Sex Magic, Alec Lightwood in denial, Alec Lightwood in love, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Pre-Relationship, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Magnus Bane, Sex Magic, Swearing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, consent is important, mild Self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunteeton/pseuds/tunteeton
Summary: A relaxing evening takes an unexpected turn. Magnus has his pants on. He intends to keep his pants on.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 39
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

It starts out just a slight tingling on his fingertips, like a hundred pixies blowing kisses at once. Magnus reels back, on guard, fists lighting up in blue flames, but nothing comes charging at him. And neither should it, he’s at home after all, and behind dozens of wards. It’s the safest place in New York. Hesitating, he lowers his hands and lets the flames die out.

And okay, he was just messing with the door’s warding but that shouldn’t matter. It’s just a little tweak, something that crossed his mind and amused him enough to get off the couch for. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing it while tipsy but Magnus is the boss of himself, he can do what he pleases. Even if it backfires a bit. The spell just went wrong, that’s all. Magic and bourbon aren't the best of combinations, and it's been another long day around the drama-prone shadowhunters.

At least this doesn’t seem dangerous. Actually, it’s quite a nice feeling, relaxing even. Delighted, Magnus beelines for the couch. Did he figure out a massage spell by accident? Best mistake ever!

He sinks into the colorful cushions, letting his head fall back and closing his eyes. Whatever this is, he intends to make the most of it. It’s not every decade you stumble upon something that feels this good, like a gentle golden light radiating under his skin.

The tingling travels up to his elbows, leaving his fingers lazy and numb. Magnus sighs happily. He senses no threat here, just warmth and soft pressure. The spell doesn’t tickle or irritate at all, at most it feels like a loving embrace. It’s fast climbing up the top ten of his self-care repertoire. He could do with a taste of this every other night or so.

In his biceps, the spell eases little tensions and pains he hadn’t even noticed before they’re gone. His muscles feel warm and pliant, and it’s only been a couple of minutes. Absentmindedly, he unbuttons his vest and lets it hang loose from his shoulders. It’s getting hot, probably a byproduct of all this relaxation going on. Also, the fabric suddenly feels coarse and intrusive on his skin. The soft, cool texture of the sofa feels so much better, more inviting.

Yes, getting rid of his clothes is definitely the right move. The vest hits the floor and Magnus hums, arching his bare back against the cushions. This spell is a keeper for sure. His skin hasn’t felt this sensitive for _ages_.

The magic is dancing on his shoulders now and Magnus fancies that if he opened his eyes he’d see little sparks shimmer there. The muscles turn soft and malleable and Magnus purrs, amazed at the radiating pleasure. Soon, it will climb the arch of his neck and turn his scalp into happy mush. Magnus cannot wait. He burrows deeper into the cushions, a contented smile on his face. Thank Heavens for happy accidents!

Then a shiver turns south and travels down his spine, straight to his core.

His eyes fly open just as a first tentative moan escapes his lips.

Oh.

Interesting.

He hadn’t expected _that_.

The spell seems to accelerate now that it’s shown its true intent, the gentle tingles turning into something just as pleasurable but far less chaste. They race down his body and Magnus realizes he’s clutching at the pillows, relaxation forgotten and hips twitching hopefully into friction that doesn’t even exist. It’s still not painful at all and oh well, he’s already half naked on a Friday evening so why fight it? His pampered body has an agenda now and Magnus isn’t protesting.

Lazily, Magnus wonders if this counts as masturbation. The spell wakes up every single nerve ending on its path, turning mundane touches into exquisite pleasure. The cushions caress his back, his hair tickles his ears and his pants – 

Reflexively Magnus opens his legs. He wants to touch. He touches. The following spark of pleasure has him arching off the couch, a low whine building in his throat. As soon as it’s gone his hands rush to his fly. He needs to get rid of his pants, fast.

His phone rings.

It’s on his hand, ringing. Magnus frowns at it. A hand holding a phone is not a hand taking off his pants which should clearly be a priority right now.

He must have summoned the phone without thinking but there’s no way he’s answering it, not when the next set of shivers is already building at the back of his neck, is already sending sparkly tendrils down towards his –

It’s Alexander, and true to form he’s not helpful, he’s not hanging up.

The pleasure is flowing to his core, coalescing into an impossibly tight spot just behind his balls, vibrating in that most intimate of places, and still his phone is somehow on his hand, ringing. He watches horrified as his finger, apparently without asking his brain for its opinion, presses the answering button, hard. The line connects.

The tight coil of pleasure explodes into a thousand sparkling points of light, flooding his nervous system with euphoric messages of need. It feels like every sexual act he has ever indulged in is performed on him at the same time, drowning out coherent thought. Every touch becomes intense source of physical pleasure. Dimly, he realizes he's on his front, helplessly humping the cushions. He might be wailing, or maybe sobbing. Somehow, unbelievably, he’s not coming.

Somewhere, the tinny voice of Alexander is shouting. Magnus entertains no plans for conversation. The next time he manages to gulp for breath, only a broken whimper comes out. Even the rings in his ears taunt him with impossible lust.

The phone drops from his lax fingers. The next wave of pleasure washes upon him, drowning out everything but need. Far away, an urgent voice is calling his name. Then, silence.

–

Some time has passed. It must have, because Magnus is breathing again. He finds himself on the floor next to the couch, body quivering from exhaustion. Droplets of sweat are making their way down his chest and his necklaces are a tangled mess of precious metals and gemstones.

It takes him several minutes to realize that the spell is still working on his body, innocently caressing his chest and sides with its golden touches, soothing his trembling muscles. Groaning, he lets his head fall back to the sofa. Yes, he’s played with sex magic before, but no spell was quite like this. It’s insistent and devious and Magnus has no idea what’s coming next. This must be its idea of aftercare, surely? Certainly it’s passing.

Someone starts hammering on his door as if they intend to break his wards with fists alone.

“Magnus!”

He moans again. How had he forgotten about the call? Of course Alec would be worried, of course he would want to check on Magnus. Taking care of people and things is practically his whole modus operandi.

“Go away,” he says, his voice hoarse, but the traitorous doors swing open for the shadowhunter.

And well, he really shouldn’t be surprised. After all, this whole thing started with him tweaking the wards on that very door, allowing for Alexander to enter as he pleases. Still, his timing is abysmal. Magnus is hardly in shape to entertain.

Alec looks gorgeous. He’s clearly in catastrophe mode, bow on hand, his broad shoulders tight and ready to face whatever horrors might lurk in the apartment. His hair is a disaster and he’s breathing raggedly. Magnus realizes he must have been running. Running for him. The thought makes him warm and very, very embarrassed. This is going to be so awkward.

Alexander doesn’t spot him straight away from his resting place between the couch and the table. His dark eyes scan the apartment, looking wild and anxious.

“Magnus!”

“Here,” Magnus offers. He really doesn’t see any reason not to co-operate, Alexander in that mood is not leaving no matter how much Magnus wishes him to. The spell blooms into a warm embrace and for a second it’s difficult to keep his eyes fixed on Alec.

And then Alec is running, is jumping over the table and crashing down next to him, bow forgotten and eyes as huge as a doe’s. And Magnus would find it very sweet, really he would, if not for the fact that every step that takes Alexander closer intensifies the remains of the spell in his body, lightning embers on his nerves and sending electric shivers right to his crotch.

“Magnus what’s going on?”

Alexander is going to touch him. He’s going to touch Magnus, worry clearly written over his face, of course he is, and it’s very possible Magnus will come into his pants like a teenager if he does.

Magnus throws his hand up, a makeshift shield between them, and tries to crawl into safety. His back is against the couch and his tight pants are mauling him and the proximity of Alexander is making breathing a battle again.

“Please don’t touch me!”

Alec stills, hurt and confusion fighting the worry on his expression and everything is horrible, especially because Magnus realizes he really, wants Alec to touch him, or maybe the spell does, it’s getting difficult to differentiate between them. And then the pleasure strikes again, no gentle build-up this time but straight to the business, and for a moment Magnus loses control of his body and his voice and everything else along with them.

Somebody is speaking, quick loud anxious words, and someone else is whimpering, and it takes Magnus altogether too long to figure out who’s who and then even longer to shut up and listen to Alec.

“– that’s it, that’s good, breathe for me. That’s good, Magnus. Magnus? Can you move? Can you open your eyes? No, don’t do that, just breathe, just –”

Because after hearing comes feeling and that’s when Magnus realizes Alexander is holding his arm, long fingers wrapped around his left bicep, and that simple touch should be grounding, should be innocent, but the spell has other ideas. Alec’s fingers are wells of single-target lust aimed at Magnus’ cock and he _needs_ –

There are fingers under his chin, turning his head and it’s only then Magnus understands that he’s on the floor, curled on his side and Alec is hovering over him. The whole situation, combined with the spell wreaking havoc on every pleasure spot on his body, is just too much. Magnus lets out the most wanton, the most sinful moan he’s ever witnessed and rolls to his back, arching up and opening himself for Alec. There are words flowing from his mouth now and Magnus is grateful they come out in Indonesian because if Alexander understood what wicked things Magnus were begging him for, he could wave their tentative start of a relationship goodbye. They haven’t even gone on a date yet.

And he knows Alexander is inexperienced but even he has to catch up soon. Magnus can’t help wriggling under him or the way his legs spread out, looking for the heavenly weight of Alec right where he needs it.

And how is he still wearing pants? The pants have to go, they need to be gone, he needs to –

_Wait!_

The pants need to _fucking stay_. Alexander isn’t consenting, even Magnus isn’t really consenting, it’s the spell, the spell is doing this, making him feel this desperate and out of control. The one thing that needs to happen is Alec leaving until Magnus can sort this out. And then some apologising. Alec isn’t here to ravish Magnus on the floor, he’s here because he thinks something is terribly wrong with him. Magnus has to get this under control. He has to. He will.

–

Alec had known he was in trouble as soon as Magnus introduced himself. The continuous flirting hasn't helped his cause, but really it is Magnus himself who is the biggest obstacle on Alec's mission to fulfill familial expectations. Magnus is miracles and magnificent flamboyance, surprising sincerity and over-the-top exhibitionism. He's brave and fearless and Alec could stay forever just admiring his defiant flame. But Magnus hadn't wanted that, a moth to his bonfire. Magnus had challenged him from the start, prodded at his insecurities and his denials and always, always seen right through them. Alec had never thought their positions might be swapped, that Magnus might call him to witness something like this. It's intimate and it's scary and Alec is utterly out of his depth.

Because Magnus has always had a certain grace about him, an elegance that only comes from a total control of one's body. It was one of the first things that Alec noticed, together with the warlock's outrageous fashions and put-upon patience with shadowhunter business. And his fingers, weaving miracles out of thin air, clever and dextrous and so hypnotizing. There's nothing in Magnus Bane Alec doesn't find amazing, which only makes the present situation even more baffling and him even more helpless in dealing with it. Because here is a Magnus Alec has hard time recognizing, a trembling cowering mess on the floor, shying away from him. Something has gone, and indeed is still going, terribly wrong.

But Magnus wanted him here, thought Alec had something to offer, some way to help him. And Alec may not understand, but by the angel he can try. If only he could figure out how to even start! Earlier, it seemed like Magnus was calming down, was even listening to him. But then something changed and that tenuous connection was shattered.

And now Alec is helpless. It’s clear that Magnus is fighting some horrible inner battle, lost inside his body and mind. And it’s equally clear he needs Alec’s aid, the way he clings to his hands like Alec was the only lifeline he had left in an ocean of enemies.

But Magnus isn’t taking anything from him and half of the time he doesn’t even really seem to be aware of Alec’s presence. His mouth is slightly open, the tip of a pink tongue flashing out to wet his dry lips every couple of labored breaths. He keeps trembling and groaning, trashing on the floor like a fish on a hook. His whole body is one long sinuous line of movement under Alec and he’s hot, sweat pooling on the concave of his stomach. Alec hates himself for noticing how utterly sensual Magnus looks and sounds like. That’s not helping them, helping Magnus defend against whatever evil it is that’s attacking him. Alec just never realized before how physically taxing doing magic apparently is. Because surely he's witnessing some grand battle, one his arrows can have no part in?

“Magnus please, I want to help you, how can I help you?” Alec begs and Magnus stares at his face as if all the angels have made their home there, but his eyes are glazed over and Alec has no idea what he’s seeing or even saying. The language he uses sounds exotic, rapid and ancient and it's absolutely foreign to Alec.

“Magnus, English, please,” he pleads, but Magnus doesn’t hear or understand him. The breathy words just keep erupting from him, almost as if compelled. It sounds like Magnus is asking him for something, even begging, but Alec has no idea what.

“I can’t understand you,” he repeats, over and over again, until one word actually makes sense.

“Alexander,” Magnus gets out, and it’s so full of longing Alec nearly bites his tongue. So Magnus knows it's him, wants him here. Needs, maybe?

"I can't -" Magnus nearly sobs, arching up to Alec and grasping his shirt with two trembling fists, hauling Alec down until they're mere inches apart. It seems like he wants to say something more, opening and closing his mouth several times and inhaling directly into Alec's lungs. This close, Alec can see every individual speck of glitter under his eyes.

“Yes you can, Magnus, I’m here,” he says and gathers Magnus into his arms without hesitation. “I’m here, tell me what you need, anything you need. Take my strength if you need it, just please let me help you.”

Instantly, Magnus is utterly tense, like every single muscle in him is fighting against some terrible compulsion. His eyes turn searing bright gold and Alec has half a second to get truly scared before Magnus goes limp and boneless in his hold. His head lolls back, his golden eyes fall closed and his death grip on Alec’s shirt loosens. Whatever agitated him is gone and Alec has no idea who has won.

But at least Magnus is breathing loud and wet against Alec's shirt, easing his anxious heart.

He takes some time to just hold Magnus, calm himself and try to understand, but no answers are forthcoming. Instead his cramping legs inform him that they’re still on the floor, and that at least is a thing Alec can do something about. On his arms, Magnus is surprisingly tiny and easy to lift up to the couch. His head rests against Alec's shoulder and he's half lying on him and half on the sofa, lithe as a cheetah. Alec is truly tempted to stay there, but this intimacy feels wrong and stolen and so he goes looking for his phone. He really should call for help. He still has no idea what’s going on, but if that wasn’t a magical battle then he’s –

“Alexander.”

Alec is back on Magnus’ side in an instant. Magnus is blinking slowly, his eyes back to their usual color and his pupils huge. Little tremors go through him like aftershocks and Alec thinks he can see tears on his cheeks. Slowly, Magnus' tired mouth turns into a rueful smile.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness that.”

The bottom of Alec's world falls off.

"No. No no no. That's not, Magnus, don't say that. Don't be sorry. I'm not sorry. I want to help. Wanted to. _You_ wanted me to help."

Magnus hums and rubs his face on the cushions. It's such a vulnerable gesture Alec despairs. Hello, yet another brand new tantalizing layer of Magnus Bane.

"I did? I can't recall such a thing. And really, Alexander, you don't have to go and try to spare my feelings. I assure you, they've gone through worse."

His face clouds over and he looks down on the cushions, frowning as if even he himself doubts the veracity of that statement. And Alec is frowning, too, because Magnus just isn't making sense. None of this is making sense.

"Wait, no, what are you talking about? You did ask for me and it's a damn good thing you did. Fuck, Magnus, what even was that thing? A demon lord from the deepest pits of Hell? No one should have to go through such a battle alone. Magnus, you were in _agony_. It's not something you have to apologize for. I'm just sorry I couldn't really do anything."

Now it's Magnus' turn to gawk at him. Then, just as confusingly, his face turns unfathomably soft.

"Let it be said for the record that your faith in me has been noted. You make me feel bad, Alexander. I think I owe you an explanation, not just an apology. O _h god, not again._ "

And then Alec is under Magnus on the couch which is not where he was a second ago, and Magnus' very strong, very insistent, very _hard_ body presses into him. It happens so fast Alec only has time for a single yelp, and _then_ Magnus bites his own arm, just where it connects to his shoulder and throws himself down from the couch, panting and cursing on all fours, wild golden stare burning into Alec's skin.

Possession. It must be possession. Where the fuck is his bow?

But before Alec can do as much as sit up Magnus starts glowing warm orange, his whole body bursting out in glitter and it's just too much for Alec who abandons all thoughts of a fight and just freezes, staring. It takes him a moment to realize what he's seeing is Magnus' magic erupting out of him into all directions. Magnus is kneeling now, and it's a little difficult to see him clearly through the cloud of glittery dust but Alec thinks Magnus about to throw up. And then he does just that, heaves out pure magic and collapses on himself. The orange sparkling light fades away into nothingness and finally Alec remembers he possesses working legs.

"Magnus? Magnus! What the --"

Magnus groans. "Purging. I hate it. I hate it so much. Please, Alexander, there's whiskey in the kitchen. And oranges. In fact, bring the whole bottom drawer."

Numbly, Alec goes. It's not like this day could get any weirder.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexander is made for dark rooms and firelight flickering on his face. In the half-shadows, he looks like a panther – dark, furtive, dangerous. Magnus wonders if Alec realizes the flames are a bit too red, a bit too keen to throw dancing shadows on his cheeks. He's gathered and lit every candle in the living room and the fireplace is stuffed full of glowing embers, and only half of it is because the purging spell always leaves him feeling like an iceberg just bowled him over. So far Alec isn't protesting - maybe shadowhunters are used to overly dramatic lighting or maybe he just has other things in his mind. His eyes are dark and worried, his substantial attention all on Magnus, who wonders if this could be considered a date. Probably not.

Definitely not.

Not when they are about to have this particular discussion.

"No demons," he starts. It's a safe place to breach the topic. Always a good idea to begin with the good news.

His teeth try to chatter even though he's sweating. Purging is such fun. Soon, he dreads, the adrenaline will wear off and he'll be out of the game for a good while. He just has to get Alec out of here before that happens. Should not be a problem.

"Really."

Alec has moved past his initial shock and is now very much in an answer-getting mood. He’s standing, with his arms crossed, in the middle of the living room and acting like he owns the place. Magnus doesn't miss the way he keeps his bow close, even when he was raiding the kitchen earlier he carried it with him. He can't really blame the boy. He just wishes Alec's curiosity can be satisfied quickly.

"Really," he offers back and then bites his lip. He’s feeling off-balance and awkward, not like himself at all. Maybe the whole writhing on the floor in ecstacy-thing is to blame. And almost molesting Alec in magical delirium. Now that was a winner move. It's kind of hard to explain even to himself, let alone his would-be-prey. And while the magic is definitely gone from his system now, his body still remembers. Fuck it, he's still half hard in his pants and he can't quite suppress the occasional want-shiver that runs through his body. Worse yet, he knows that even in the dim half-light Alec can see them too and is drawing his own conclusions. Wrong ones, but conclusions all the same.

Also, Magnus feels _wrecked_. The spell took its toll on him, both physically and mentally, and the purging pretty much finished him. Can this discussion be over already? He's not quite swaying on his feet, but that's about the most positive thing that can be said of his state. 

But Alec has his own agenda, which has nothing to do with hurrying up and leaving Magnus to hibernate in shame and peace. He looks at Magnus, steady and serious, and surprises him once more.

In five quick steps, Alec is in front of him. Without any hesitation, his hand is moving towards Magnus' face. It's not a strike, realizes Magnus who doesn't quite understand what's going on until it has already happened. Alec’s fingers find Magnus' chin and lift it up, towards his own, as if touching Magnus like this was something he did every day before breakfast. Alec peers into his eyes, searching for something. His fingers are very long and even though his touch is gentle, Magnus feels trapped. He wants to step back, but then he also wants to lean in and let Alec hold him. In the end, he just stands there, being examined for who knows what. He's lost the count. Too many unexpected things tonight. Another involuntary shiver overtakes his body and Alec's frown deepens. Magnus can't look away.

This close, Alec looks dangerously kissable. Magnus feels like his hair would stand on point even without magical coaxing. How is he supposed to work with this?

"Magnus. Hey. Talk to me. You say no demons and I suppose I believe you, but what was that then? Another warlock? Poison?"

Oh. They are still talking about this. Alec hasn't decided to skip the conversation and move straight to snogging. Pity.

And it would be easy, so easy, for Magnus to lie now. Alec is close and real and warm and everything Magnus' exhausted body craves. He can so clearly see how it would go. A little sigh, a little nuzzle, and a confession.

_Yes Alexander, it was some villain but he's gone now, please nurse me back to health. Yes Alexander, must have been poison, no idea where that came from but I've got a lot of enemies, please feed me oranges and I'll be fine._

But Alec deserves better, his unquestioning faith in Magnus deserves better and so Magnus does the one thing he swore so long ago he will never again do. He makes himself vulnerable.

At least this part he can do well, even if his timing needs work.

Gently, Magnus takes Alec's hand and guides it down, over his bare chest. It feels so good to have this simple touch, but now it's Alec's turn to look surprised. Reverently, he lets himself feel Magnus' heart beating and then he draws his hand back. The loss of his warmth is immediate, leaving Magnus cold and wanting. Quietly, he shakes his head. He should probably accept this won't be a short talk. He should probably sit down.

He does not sit down. This is the most of Alec he's ever had and he's greedy. He'll deal with everything later.

"It was none of those things. I wasn't under attack, Alexander. You said agony earlier but it wasn't that. I wasn't hurting."

"Then what," and Alec just waves his hand at Magnus' direction, and really it is a fair question. Magnus sighs, mostly to keep his stubborn body from crumbling.

"It wasn't - I did it myself. It wasn't any attack."

Alec looks horrified and it takes Magnus altogether too long to understand why.

"I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I tried to do something else but that failed and then this happened instead. I - I don't usually spend my Friday evenings doing things like that to myself, Alexander. I'm not that kinky."

The relief in the shadowhunter's eyes would be humorous in another situation. Now it only raises a fond smile to Magnus' face. But soon a new horror emerges. Alec's eyes grow at least three sizes and then he blushes furiously.

"Wait, what? Kinky? Do you mean that was -" Alec pauses, clearly lost for words.

Oh dear. Now he's really fucked this up. Manically, Magnus considers just portaling Alec out of the apartment and then crashing on the sofa for three weeks.

"It was an accident, okay?" He groans. "I really truly didn't mean to, and especially not in front of you. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, it wasn't my intention."

"Oh my god," says Alec and looks at him with wild round eyes. He's not yet leaving, to Magnus' despair, or maybe relief. "Oh my god. Give me a minute, Magnus. I need a minute."

Magnus doesn't need a minute, he needs a fucking decade. Suddenly, he's very aware of his own body, his sweat-slick chest and tight pants. It's not a nice feeling and he fights an impulse to fidget, especially when Alec's dark eyes finally stop on him after their tour on literally everything else in the room. To give himself something to do, Magnus bites his lip and immediately regrets it as Alec's eyes snap to his mouth. Why does everything feel suggestive right now?

"You," Alec says, his voice rough in a way that makes Magnus stand straighter. "You sent me a message. You asked me to call."

"No," Magnus answers immediately because he has done no such thing.

"Yes," Alec counters and gets his phone, stabs at it viciously a couple of times, shows him. "Yes you did."

And there it is, a message from Magnus, and he doesn't understand.

"So I called you," Alec continues, his voice strained. "And you sounded like someone had beat you with your own swag. When apparently you were just coming like a volcano."

"Not once," protests Magnus, but that doesn't seem to help the situation. If Alec's eyes went any rounder they'd pop straight out of his head. He stares at Magnus' crotch as if he can't help himself and then, very audibly, gulps. And Magnus is comfortable with his body but this is just too weird. Maybe if Alec didn't look like the Angel reborn it would be easier but even then Magnus doubts it.

"You asked me to call." Alec repeats, almost to himself.

"I didn't send a text," Magnus insists, but Alec has the evidence on the palm of his hand.

"Call me. Please." He recites, not taking his eyes off Magnus. "Kind of hard to misread that. And then when I came, the doors just opened for me. Shouldn't you use wards? Difficult to believe the job security is that exceptional. Magnus? What is it now?"

Because he's had an idea, a possible explanation, and it's -

He swears in Indonesian because that's quicker. Furiously, he makes his way to the doors, swaying just a bit on the way. The wards jump into visibility and towards his hands and he stares at them, trying to find the fault.

It's exactly where he thought it would be. He swears again.

"Pretty," says Alec, standing right next to him. And then, "Explain."

That Magnus can do.

"I fucked up," he admits. "I'm sorry."

"You already said that," says Alec, the patron saint of patience. "Elaborate."

"I messed with the wards. I changed them, just a little. I made it so that you could enter at will. Or at least I thought I did."

Alec stares at him. "Me? Why? I mean, you must have loads of people who -"

"No one else," says Magnus quietly, regretting this conversation more every minute. "Just you."

If you are going to go all out, you go _all out_. Guaranteed to bring the most painful results, every time.

"Magnus," Alec starts, but Magnus can't listen to his voice right now, not when he needs to say this.

"I messed it up. I didn't just invite you into my home. I invited you into me. Look."

It's not often that Magnus shows the inner workings of his magic to anyone else. It's personal in a way he finds hard to define, like inviting Alec to observe the insides of his veins or brain. Instinctively, he draws his shoulders up, his stomach in - a defensive position. Next to him, Alec lets a sharp breath out as the room comes alive with glowing, intertwined glyphs and symbols. They overlap and circle each other like vines, thickest over the door but continuing all over the walls, the ceiling, even the floor. It's a neural network of protection, strong enough to keep a greater demon or the whole of Clave out if needed.

Magnus knows that Alec doesn't understand, can't read the language Magnus has written all over his home. It doesn't make him any less tense however. He feels utterly bare, in a way that clothing has nothing to do with.

"It's -," Alec whispers, but Magnus isn't done here.

"Look," he commands again and Alec, bless him, is good at taking orders, better than Magnus has ever been. He falls silent and waits.

Magnus raises his arms and lets the magic climb up his calves, circle his legs and waist and finally his shoulders, arms. He's part of this protective web, the living centre of it, and therein lies the flaw of his latest ward. The magic hums in his ears so loudly Alec must hear it too.

"These," he says, surprised that his voice comes out so even, "are my wards. So yes, Alexander, this place is locked up tighter than any vault you've ever even imagined."

"They are always here," Alec says reverently and it takes Magnus a moment to realize that was a question.

"Yes. I just keep them hidden. They clutter the place up something awful."

Alec shakes his head fiercely. "They are beautiful. Like art, or music. I can hear them, Magnus. I never did before, when I couldn’t see them. They sound like a thousand distant bell chimes."

And Magnus does _not_ know how to deal with that right now so he ignores it. Alec doesn't realize he's practically talking about Magnus' mind. It doesn't mean anything.

"And you," Alec continues. "You are just glowing with them. Iridescent."

"You should look at yourself," says Magnus drily and Alec jumps as he glances down.

"The moment you step through that door you're under my protection, and supervision. The golden ones really suit you, by the way."

They really really do, accenting and highlighting Alec's features mesmerizingly. That's not a thought Magnus needs right now, but nevertheless it's the thought he's having. Alexander is beautiful, end of story.

"Oh my god," says Alec again, sounding quite breathless. Then his eyes widen. "What do you mean, supervision?"

"They primarily protect me," Magnus explains, glad of their change of topic. "If you had an intention to hurt me, they'd warn me before you could."

"I don't want to hurt you," says Alec, rather unnecessarily.

"I know."

Alec actually blushes at that. Magnus could not be more infatuated if he tried.

"My mistake," he continues before he can embarrass either of them further, "was that I forgot to sever the ward that allows you in from all the rest of this. So I didn't just grant you entry through the door. I let you literally everywhere."

He hopes he doesn't have to spell it out any clearer. Alec goes back to the door, follows the vines into the room, ceiling, floor, and finally Magnus himself. He can see the exact moment it clicks, the full-body shudder that almost knocks Alec down.

"Oh my god," he whispers, the third time the charm.

"In my defence, I was quite tipsy at the moment," Magnus adds hastily. The glowing light of his magic fades out of existence as if even it was ashamed of its creator's folly.

He's not exactly sure which one of them moves first, but suddenly they are very close again, chest to chest. Magnus has to look up to meet Alec's eyes and Alec's hand is hovering next to his, not quite touching. And even though the compulsion is gone, Magnus feels drawn in, voluntarily cornered. He, very badly, wants to be kissed.

"You mad thing," Alec whispers. "You did send the text, you just didn't realize. You invited me here, in every possible way. And when I came -"

"It was quite intense," Magnus admits. "Cannot recommend. When you touched me, it was -"

And now Alec is touching him, his hand on Magnus', so sweet and unsure of its welcome. Magnus would only need to tilt his palm slightly and they'd be holding hands.

"And don't think you're fooling me," Alec continues.

Magnus doesn't tilt his palm.

"Oh?"

"You're exhausted. Magnus, have you even noticed you've been shivering this whole time? That fight took a lot out of you, didn't it?"

"Was not a fight," protests Magnus, but Alec ignores him and steers him to the couch, sits down next to him, still holding his hand. Magnus' thoughts come slow and sluggishly. He blinks. Is he really shivering? He might be shivering.

Alec procures a red velvety robe from who knows where and drapes it over his shoulders. Magnus should feel ridiculous, but decides to let that wait until morning.

"What was it like?" Alec asks quietly after covering Magnus up to his satisfaction. Magnus shudders. Alec was here. He saw it happen. What else does he want?

"Do you really want to know?"

Alec seems to consider. "I - you are right. That's private. Forgive me. I just, what I saw, what you did - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Magnus sighs. Conversation: still not over. "Let me guess. You are thinking compulsion."

Very carefully, Alec nods.

"You are thinking right." He knows he sounds hollow. This is the point where Alec will realize how craven Magnus is and leave and never come back. That his subconscious is like an animal in heat, unable to control itself. That's what you get for telling the truth.

Alec does lean away but Magnus can't help jerking forward, iron clinging to his magnet. When did he become this sad?

But Alec isn't leaving. He raises his hand, almost soothing.

"Just let me look at you. There's something I don't understand. Just give me a second, okay?"

So Magnus stays on the sofa, guarded, as Alec's eyes roam over him. He feels another shiver coming and suppresses it ruthlessly. He's had enough of vulnerability for a century.

"You didn't give in to it," Alec wonders, his voice low and gaze fixated somewhere behind Magnus' shoulder.

"I did too," Magnus objects, remembering the moment his self-control slipped and he yanked Alec under him, desperate for him. Unforgivable.

Alec waves it away. "That was one second. Magnus, you forget I was here. I saw you fight it off, time after time. And it _was_ a fight, no matter what you tell yourself. Compulsion, you say. Your mind must be made of steel."

Magnus blinks. This is not how he envisioned this discussion going. Full of surprises, is Alec Lightwood.

Yet.

"Alexander, I nearly assaulted you. Don't try to coddle me. I know what I did."

It really needs to be said.

"But you didn't," says Alec in an annoyingly logical way. "You chose to hurt yourself before you'd touch me."

Magnus doesn't understand. Alec points at his shoulder, now covered with the soft robe.

Perplexed, Magnus looks down.

"Under it," Alec gently reminds him. Magnus shakes the thing off his shoulder and -

Oh.

He had totally forgotten about the bite. It's still lazily bleeding, painting his elbow and arm rusty red.

It had been a last-change effort to zap out of the magical haze of want and need. His brain had been screaming both yes and no at Alec pinned under him, and even when his hips had wasted no time at humping against the shadowhunter's tantalizing body, his mind had been desperately trying to escape the situation and get his body back under control.

You fight stimulus with a stronger stimulus. Everyone knows that. It hadn't been a time for finesse and his approach had worked. Magnus sees no problem with that.

"Yes, and?"

For some reason that makes Alec look sad. He shakes his head and glances down, at his own hands.

"I don't need to be cared for, Alexander," Magnus insists, feeling off-balance.

At that, Alec actually laughs, a little joyless sound.

"Sure you don't. I just wonder, when was the last time you were?"

"Look who's talking," Magnus quips back half-heartedly. Maybe if he could stop yawning he'd get more fire into it, but now it's hardly worth the effort.

Suddenly, Alec is on his feet, looking down to him.

"You need to rest. I'm going home. I just wanted to say thanks before I go."

Magnus blinks up at him. Rest does sound good.

"You're welcome?"

Smiling, Alec pats his knee. Magnus is asleep before the door closes after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there might be a part two to this thing. As usual, I had a neat little idea which grew and now it's bigger and definitely less neat. You know, fic-writes woes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know how I said that this story was over?
> 
> Yeah, I lied.

This is what Alec knows: Two weeks ago, Magnus sent him a simple text. It's difficult to imagine an act more innocent, but that short message has since forced his whole life out of its familiar and safe, if somewhat unsatisfying, shape.

Of course, Alec called him and had a near miss with a heart attack when Magnus had answered the phone in absolute agony, not even coherent. So naturally, Alec had rushed to his home to be greeted by the unfathomable sight of Magnus, half naked, writhing on the floor, quite clearly fighting off some unseen magical threat. Or so Alec had thought.

Even now, this line of reasoning seems leagues more logical to him than what had actually happened. Apparently. It's not like he could have asked Magnus afterwards. (Well, that's a lie and Alec knows it. There was a moment or two when he _could_ have, but had chickened out of it.)

But night after night, flashes of that Friday evening keep playing in his mind. During daytime, he manages to keep himself busy enough to ignore them, but no matter how much he tries, punching bags or running tracks, sleep doesn't reach him fast enough to outrace his imagination. As soon as his head hits the pillow, Magnus is there, panting under him, arching up towards Alec like his body contained the last traces of oxygen in the world. In the next second Magnus moans, now over him, hot and determined and unmistakably hard, looking like some ancient deity of uninhibited male sexuality about to wreck him there and then. The next, Magnus, his voice serious, telling him that there was no one else he had granted the same level of access into his home, into _him_.

All of which begs a question.

Since the very first moment of their acquaintance, Magnus has been an unashamed flirt. He dangles himself in front of Alec like he was luring in a fish, and there has been no question what his endgame is.

He wants the pants off a ’pretty boy’, the faster the better. After that, Alec has assumed, he will be satisfied and ready to move on. Meanwhile, Alec will have his whole life and career destroyed.

But night after night, the images do return.

Magnus, crawling away from him, all but snarling in his haste to get space between them.

Magnus, quite clearly exhausted beyond reason, refusing to give up before he has adequately (incessantly) apologized and explained himself to Alec.

Alec has some trouble combining the two pictures into one being. The truth, he has come to realize, is that he never allowed himself to entertain the thought that Magnus might have layers, that there might be more to him than flashy magic and even flashier make-up.

Before, it was easier. Magnus was a warlock and Alec was a Lightwood and never the two shall cross. Alec is very used to denying himself, Jace has taken good care of that. But now Alec isn't so sure, about either of them really.

His image of Magnus has been thrown asunder, warped and zoomed into single-minded focus, and Alec _wants_. To say his nightly thoughts have had no effect on him would be the lie of his life, even bigger than that other one which is already pretty huge. At first, he tried to ignore everything, but Magnus, even an imaginary one, is very persistent. And Alec has a very good memory. He can see Magnus, hear him, fucking smell him on his own skin. He knows how Magnus' throat arches, how his hips thrust, how his voice breaks when he whispers Alec's name. It's more information than any virgin should possess and remain sane.

It's also getting impossible to deny the things he wants to do with Magnus, to Magnus.

The first time, that fateful Friday night, when he sticks his fingers deep into his mouth, he has the most immediate, intense orgasm of his life. It leaves him shaking, ashamed and desperate for more.

He doesn't sleep that night and in the morning, he spends hours agonizing over the phone. Should he call Magnus? What on earth could he even say?

_I've wanked off to the memories and fantasies of you four times last night. Good times. Let's go out. P.S. You're hot._

Yeah, not likely.

Magnus will call him, he finally reasons. After all, Magnus has this new-found depth beyond his playboy persona. Surely he'll call. Alec only needs to be patient, and then he can simply react to what Magnus has to say. That's much easier. He doesn't have to initiate anything, he's sure Magnus will have plenty of words, enough for the both of them. He always does.

Magnus doesn't call him. Alec spends the day staring at his phone and double-checking it every half an hour or so. He feels sick. Why doesn't Magnus call? Is he angry at Alec? Ashamed? Or doesn't he just care, was that just another normal Friday in the fabulous life of Magnus Bane?

By Sunday afternoon, Alec has had enough. With cold fingers, he picks up his phone and chooses Magnus' number. He listens to the beeps of the little machine until it disconnects by itself. Magnus doesn't call him back.

_He's probably fucking a vampire this very second,_ Alec muses and feels sick to his stomach.

He needs to zap out of this.

It's not difficult at all to find Jace and even easier to persuade him into a sparring match. Jace is a familiar old ache and Alec loves him and slowly, little by little, things get easier. They pound at each other until they're breathless and spent, and then they just sit, side by side, staring at the old walls and colourful windows.

"So, are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Jace asks after a while and Alec sighs.

"It's nothing. I had thought that - it doesn't matter. I was wrong. It's nothing."

Jace doesn't quite look at him.

"Sure. Care for another round?"

Honestly, Jace is the best.

\--

So, when Alec steps into Izzy's study on the next Wednesday only to find Magnus there, it's like a dead fish to his face.

Magnus looks extra glamorous if that's even possible. Alec doesn't quite know where to look, it's like everything from his glittery make-up to his brass-adorned clothing to the many rings on his fingers, his ears, his wrists, all of it was obscene, chosen especially to drive Alec into despair. The worst part of it is, Magnus doesn't even notice him at first. He's deep in talk with Izzy, gesturing, making her laugh, and Alec wants to flee, or maybe throw up. This can't be real, he's seeing spectres, he's finally jumped into the deep end. Magnus has a suit on, vest and all, and his hips are narrow and Alec needs to touch him, preferably with his mouth.

But then Magnus pauses, mid-anecdote, and glances at the door, and this is even worse. Because it suddenly dawns on Alec that he himself is gross and dirty, fresh back from a mission. He needs a shower, a comb, he fucking needs to brush his teeth.

"Alexander! I didn't see you there."

Magnus is full of smiles, perfect and manicured, and Izzy is still giggling and Alec can’t breathe. Wordlessly, he turns around and slams the door shut behind him.

\--

The shower doesn't manage to soothe him one bit. Quite the contrary, it gives him time to think and that's not what Alec needs right now.

How can Magnus be here, be so casually chatting with Izzy, be so _Magnus_ , while Alec himself is a nervous wreck on the verge of a total breakdown, unable to stop lusting after him even for a second?

He yanks at the faucet, lets water fall on him as icy as it can get, until he can't take it a moment longer. Furiously, he combs his hair, brushes his teeth, grimaces at the mirror. And the second he stalks out of the bathroom, there's a knock on his door.

No points for guessing who that might be.

"Go away," Alec says. "I can't speak to you just now."

"But, why?" Magnus' voice is a bit muffled, but Alec can still make out the confusion in it. Something in him breaks. Can Magnus really not know? How can he not get it, what he's done to Alec, how he's broken him?

The door is open before he can talk himself out of it.

Magnus looks tense and worried, and whatever it is that he sees in Alec's eyes doesn't ease those feelings at all. He’s shifting his weigh from leg to leg, unsure of his welcome into Alec’s space.

"Alexander? What's wrong?"

And Alec really can't answer that. The past week flashes past his eyes, images of hurt and want and longing, and his breath catches in his throat. He's here and also not here, in another place with another Magnus, and he can't --

The worry is winning in Magnus' expression. He takes a step forward and Alec immediately backs down.

"Please go. I can't speak to you," he begs and doesn't realize that's what he's doing until he's already done it. Magnus freezes.

"What's wrong?" He repeats, but Alec has no idea. All he knows is that Magnus needs to go before Alec does something he can't take back. He doesn't trust himself, doesn't trust his body, his words. He feels horrifyingly out of control.

"Go," he tries once more. He'd flee, except how he already tried that and ended up here. Magnus would just follow him again. Magnus will never stop following him.

Cautiously, Magnus backs down.

"If this is about last Friday -," he starts, which is of course an absolutely correct assessment. Alec shakes his head furiously.

"I cannot talk to you," he repeats, hoping that Magnus understands even when he himself does not. Something in Magnus' expression shifts. Maybe he really does. Maybe he just thinks Alec is crazy.

"I see," says Magnus, which is great. Alec doesn't see, but it's just wonderful that one of them does. "I came here to thank you," Magnus continues. "About Friday. And apologize. But mostly thank. Your clever sister waylaid me on my way, but I came to see you."

Alec stares. His thoughts are all white mush. "Phone. You could have called me."

"Really didn't think this was a phone conversation topic," Magnus shrugs.

"Oh," answers Alec cleverly. Suddenly, he's very, very tired.

"But maybe," continues Magnus, "this isn't the time. Good night, Alexander. We'll talk later."

He's gone before Alec can think up a suitable, non-monosyllabic answer.

\--

The next day, Magnus is back and Alec finds he actually is able to breathe in the same room with him. Talking is still beyond him, but Magnus seems to understand and gives him space. Carefully, they settle into this new reality which Alec can only call After Friday, and neither of them does acknowledge it in any way.

Alec has had better weeks.

Then there's a mission and another one and before Alec knows it, a whole week has passed. He has spent nearly all of it on his feet, hunting a rogue warlock, avoiding another, business as usual. He has almost managed to delude himself that they never need to talk about it, that everything is back to normal and his nightly fantasies are enough.

But now there's a needle against his neck. He's out alone, on his way back home, and there's a needle pushing into his neck and arms grasping him from behind. He can only think of one person who would want to take a shadowhunter alive. This isn't good, but then again, he has broken noses before. Alec lets go of his bow and sends his fists flying.

When he finally goes down, it's with several groaning bodies around him. He doesn't recognize any of them.

\--

Alec has no idea how long he spends drifting in and out of consciousness before finally surfacing for good. It's very dark here, wherever here is. He's laying on a rough dirt floor and a quick pat around confirms that he's both unarmed and in a very confined space, not much bigger than Alec himself is. The good news is that whoever put him here thought him harmless enough to leave him unbound. Alec hopes that they will show up very soon so that he can demonstrate just how wrong they were in that assessment.

On the more personal side, there's something sticky on the side of his face and his arms and knuckles hurt. His ribs feel like something has stampeded over them and he's missing his stele, but otherwise he's fine. By shadowhunter standards, it's hardly worth a mention.

It's surprisingly difficult to find a door to this place, going by touch alone in the deep dark. It's not even a real door, just a metal slab on the ceiling, further confirming his suspicion that Valentine has actually put him in a hole in the ground. Because this surely must be the Circle's doing, right? A Lightwood should be a good bargaining chip for whatever twisted game Valentine's trying to play with the Clave and Alec can think of no-one else who wouldn't just straight up try and murder him.

A hole in the ground. The thought chills him. A shadowhunter rarely grows old and even the children get quickly familiar with the concept of death. Briefly, Alec wonders if this is his grave. Maybe nobody ever comes and he will just quietly starve away. Or maybe they come with weapons and put him down before he can as much as raise his arms to defend himself.

In the end, his experience and training win. He's not dead yet, and if it's up to him, won't be for a very long time. That's the best anyone can do. They've left his arms unbound. He can fight.

He can put up one hell of a fight. He can. He will.

It takes him some time to get in a position under the latch in the ceiling, waiting for whoever will open the door. He ends up squatting in the ground, his palms pressed into the dirt, his ears straining for any noise. He closes his eyes, concentrates on his breathing and empties his mind. The path is clear. He waits.

\--

As much as the idea of ambushing his captors appeals to Alec, time is unkind to his plans. Minutes pass and he feels each and every one of them. His legs cramp, he can't feel his toes, his soles, his ankles. Eventually, he’s forced to move by his own body and spends the following several minutes rolling around in the dirt, flexing his feet and trying to get rid of the cramps. It's not his proudest moment, but while he's kicking the ground, something moves under his heel. It's hard and uneven and not really that big, but it's still better than nothing.

He picks up the stone and weighs it in his hand. One side is round, but the other has some promising sharper areas. It's a bit bigger than his hand, but not big enough to be cumbersome. He can hold it, he can swing it. It’s a good stone. Actually, it's the best thing that has happened to him this whole week.

He has never before bashed anyone's head in, but there's no time like the present. He resumes his position under the latch, this time sitting on the floor.

Nothing continues happening and despite his situation, Alec starts to get bored. It's impossible to measure time in the darkness. He's not hungry, he's not sleepy. At the moment, he's not even angry or scared. He's got a plan and a stone to carry it out with, worrying doesn't help.

Uninvited, Magnus returns to his thoughts. At first, Alec tries to banish him because this really isn't the moment, but there's very little in his hole to distract himself with and Magnus, as always, is very persistent.

And somehow, it's easier here in the pitch black to admit things to himself. The Institute, while home, is also a place of immense pressure and expectations. The Institute is where he's spent years and years lying about himself, for the benefit of everyone else. He's a rabbit there, prey in the foxes’ den, and that shows.

But there's nobody else in this place and slowly, quietly, something small and scared inside Alec begins to unfurl. The memories don't bring him anger, or panic, or even anxiety. Mostly they make him sad, because what kind of a weapon is a stone really, against the Circle? He wants to see Magnus again, hear him make those sounds again, see him look at Alec with those dazed eyes again. He wants it all, but he's in a hole in the ground and will very likely never see another place in his alarmingly short life.

He remembers Magnus, iridescent with the glowing magic. He remembers the distant bells and his own wonder when he had glanced down and seen the runes on his own skin. He hadn't been scared then, either. Magnus had been both terrifyingly vulnerable and the most enthralling thing in the world, and the only reason why Alec hadn't tried to kiss him there and then, in the middle of that sparkling safety net, was that Magnus had been literally swaying on his feet from exhaustion.

Alec closes his eyes and lets the memories take him.

\--

He must have fallen asleep, because the stone is no longer in his hand. It takes him a moment to figure out if his eyes are open or closed, and then another to find the stone and the seam of the metal slab on the ceiling. His stomach is also starting to growl. His mouth is dry.

Hours, then. Hours at the minimum.

He keeps waiting, listening to his own breathing, counting seconds until the number gets too big to handle. He wonders if Magnus has ever been in a situation like this. He wonders about many things. And he waits.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops I explicited. Sorry not sorry. (It's not super-explicit, but enough that I felt it warranted a change in the rating.)
> 
> Also, I was so sure this would be the last chapter, again. I was wrong. Again. Sorry about that too.
> 
> Also also, there's quite a lot of semi-graphic violence at the beginning of this chapter. Mostly kicking and punching. If that's not your thing, I understand completely. You might want to skip the first half of the chapter. The second half is… quite different.

The sounds finally come. Through the ground, everything is muffled and echoey. Alec straightens up the best he can and wraps his fingers around his stone. The thumps he's half feeling and half hearing must be footsteps - someone's running. He thinks he's hearing shouting too, but it's impossible to make out actual words or how many people there are.

He knows he'll be blinded when they open the trap door. No matter how dim the lighting above might be, it's going to be more than the deep darkness of his underground cell. That's something Alec can't help, so he just has to adapt. And he has a plan. It's a flimsy plan but a plan nonetheless. Jace would groan and despair and probably crack a horrible joke about it but Jace isn't here. Alec will stick to his plan.

The footstep-thumps stop right over him. In the darkness, Alec smiles. This is it, his one chance. So much better than quiet starvation. Someone is shouting again, and then the latch on the ceiling begins to move. Alec shades his eyes against the invading light and waits, stone in hand. They won't see him, not right away, not until it's too late. Inch by inch, the heavy stone moves. He hears the grunts of the men moving it and hopes they will all be occupied with releasing him. Just a couple of seconds, that's all he needs.

The stone slides out of the way and Alec emerges from his underground prison like a crazed angel hell bent on ascension. The jump straight up would be painful even in better circumstances, but after a cramped forever on his knees it's almost impossible. In that moment, he truly loves adrenaline. On the edge of the hole, Alec ignores his surprised captors for a second in favor of sending his darling stone hurling through the air and towards the blinding white light on the ceiling. With a satisfying crack, it shatters the lamp and sends the room into deeply shadowed darkness. There's still some faint light coming from a door to Alec's left, but this will do. He has no problems seeing his targets. Hopefully they won't share the sentiment.

His surprise-seconds used up, Alec turns around, ready to fight whatever needs fighting. There are two of them which is less than he has dared to hope and feels quite insulting actually. What do they think he is, a kitten?

Satisfied that his captors appear human and not some unspeakable demon spawn, he lunges at the nearest one. The resulting collision is enough to take both of them to the ground and to the edge of his prison-hole. The man he's wrestling seems to get the same idea as Alec and what follows is a mad scuffle to see he goes down first. By that time the other man has realized that releasing Alec might have been a mistake and joins the fray, swearing profusely.

Two against one, Alec knows it's only a matter of time before he's back in the hole. That's very much not a part of his plan and he doubles his efforts, kicking and punching viciously. Things happen very quickly after that - he gets a mouthful of something, bites down like he's starving, ripping fabric and breaking skin and jerking his knees up at the same time, hitting a very specific place. It's dirty fighting but Alec's past caring.

His victim lets out a pained shriek and instinctively pulls away. Alec helps by viciously pushing until he can feel the man starting to fall and then he scrambles away, letting him tumble down and turning towards the remaining thug.

It's still dark, but apparently the man can see well enough and what he does see doesn't please him. He takes one look at Alec's manic grin that only widens when a low groan carries from the bottom of the pit. Alec raises his prize - a stubby knife he managed to seize from the falling man's belt. That's enough for the other one to decide he's seen enough and sprint out of the room.

Alec spares a second to see if there's anything useful around and also to spit thread and cotton out of his mouth. With nothing interesting in sight, he goes jogging after the escaping man, knife securely in hand.

It's probably night-time. Everything is dark, which suits Alec just fine. His eyes pick out shapes in the corridor - doors, paintings on walls, stairs up and down. And then he hears the first explosion. It seems to originate upstairs, although it's difficult to tell for sure. Alec stops on his tracks, turns around and heads for the stairs. Whatever is going on, it probably has something to do with him. Jace, most likely. The bond they share should help him find Alec and he has a tendency for the dramatic. If he has dragged Clary with him, some explosions are almost a given. Jace can't help showing off, after all.

The stairs take him into a large hall. This isn't a home for someone to live in, that's for sure. The place has an industrial feel to it, cement floors and halogen lamps and six men in dark jackets running into the room, panting, weapons already drawn.

"Fuck this," Alec mutters, and then he sprints up the remaining stairs and slams a switch on the wall. The lights flicker out and while the men stop to swear and reach for their phone torches, Alec creeps along the wall and around them, towards the door they appeared from.

Another explosion rocks the building and the first torch is lit, revealing an empty staircase where Alec just stood.

"He's here, find him," barks a voice Alec thinks he should recognize but doesn't. He does know he can't escape the room unnoticed now, however. Three of the men are directly between him and the door and there's no way they won't spot him, there's nowhere to hide. He can sprint and hope for a miracle or he can fight. Easy decision, always pick plan C.

He lunges at the nearest man, a scrawny one with his back to Alec, and thrusts him at his companions, letting out an unholy shriek and hoping for Jace to come quickly. A couple of seconds won and the men gathering themselves from the floor, Alec makes a mad dash for the door. But too soon there are hands on his arms, grasping at his shirt, and he will not be taken again, he won't, it can't happen. He tears free, knife in hand and turns around, swinging wildly. Another explosion, closer still, shakes the darkened lamps down to the floor where they shatter into glittering dust and his knife hits a target. There's a howl of pain and one hand lets go, only to be replaced by another. Alec can't think, can't run, and so he stays put and sends his legs kicking, his knife swinging. He might be screaming, channelling some ancient fighter spirit to his aid. He's not down yet. They haven't won yet. He's not going back. Two hands are holding to his arm, wrestling the knife from him. Another is kicking his legs, trying to force him to the floor. Someone punches him in the stomach. He can't breathe.

His knife is gone but Alec is standing up still, and suddenly his arms are free. He doesn't question it but slams himself on the nearest body, flailing and grasping and tumbling to the floor. There's a throat between his hands and he pushes down, growling. But it's too slow and he yanks his head down, hitting the other one straight to his nose. The body under him shudders and relaxes and Alec rolls away, ready for the next one. He grasps the nearest set of ankles and tugs hard before colliding with the ankles' owner's knees and rolling over him. The man hits the floor with a satisfying _oomph_ and Alec punches him on his way up, ready to break more noses. A hand grasps his hair, pulling up painfully before another hits him squarely in the jaw. Alec's vision goes dark for a second but then a veritable shower of fireworks lits the whole room up, crackling and whistling as they go and the man wrestling him goes lax. Heaving, Alec pulls to his knees. Four more. There are four more. None seem to be attacking him at the moment, though. They have their backs on him and are focused on something happening at the door. Good. The cavalry has finally arrived, then. Alec lunges at his next target, taking him down by the power of surprise. Jace will start thinning the mob from the other side. This is going great.

"Can you stop doing that?" He hears a familiar voice complain and it's not Jace, it's not Jace and Alec should have known, should have realized by the first explosion. Magnus will never stop following him, that's an established fact.

"I came all the way here to save you, so could you please cease your efforts to maim yourself while I'm at it?"

Magnus is being ridiculous and Alec is full of rage. He has absolutely no plans of holding back. He instead becomes a tornado of flailing arms and kicking legs. Every grunt and gasp he manages to cause only pushes him on, and soon Magnus' colorful magic is hurling over his head, sending embers to tickle his back and targeting those who try to creep on him from behind. When the last body falls to the ground Alec can't even tell if it was his or Magnus' doing. Probably a bit of both, considering the sparkles still floating in the air, fading into the shadows, and his raw knuckles and numb arms.

He's breathing hard, he's alive and he's angry. Angry at his captors, for putting him in an early grave, angry at himself for letting them, angry at Magnus for - he can't even tell. He's just angry. He feels a bit glorious, actually.

"You're late," he declares as soon as he manages to force some words out. It sounds more a growl than words. "I've spent ages in a fucking hole in the ground. You're late and you never call and the things I want to do to you -"

He doesn't realize he's stalking towards his prey before they are chest to chest and Magnus looks up to him, alarmed. Alec is going on pure instinct now, no thought and all action. He feels dangerous, like a werewolf about to transform. There's a pinpoint for his focus, and it's standing right in front of him, eyes full of questions. Alec has shed all of his, left them in the dark. He's finally free.

"Alexander -," Magnus starts, going for reasonable, but by that time Alec has grasped him by the lapels of his ridiculous jacket, pulled him close and proceeded to kiss him senseless. His ears are ringing and contrary to his fair expectations he isn't dead yet and Magnus is right here, conveniently being also not dead. It really seems to be the only sensible way to react.

He's kissing Magnus. He's finally kissing Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he's kissing the man of his dreams and fantasies and it's better than any fantasy because those had always missed the sensory input that's now threatening to take him to his knees. Magnus goes still at first, but it only takes him maybe half a second to get along with the program, and then he's kissing Alec back, every bit as enthusiastic. His hands wound themselves into Alec's hair, the nape of his neck, pulling him down, and his lips open under Alec's insistent mouth and the way he tastes, how he feels like, _gods_. He's electricity and warmth and sweet sweet plums for some inexplicable reason and Alec pushes ever closer, whining, because to be apart is inconceivable. And Magnus' hands tangled in Alec's hair feel so nice he decides to return the favor and that's another revelation because having Magnus right there, between his mouth and his hands, letting out a surprised sigh like he didn't expect it, like it's new for him too, it's too much and not nearly enough. He needs more. He needs so much more he feels like he might burst into tears.

That's when he remembers there actually is more to Magnus than his mouth and the memory is so strong he does go to his knees then, a loud thump he doesn't even register because this height is good, is great really, and Magnus looks down at him, eyes dark and mouth wet and Alec actually moans because that sight is just too perfect and yet he needs more.

His hands go straight to Magnus' belt. There's no hesitation, no blushing. He left all that behind in the dark along with his doubts. Magnus, however, looks a little concerned. He puts his hands over Alec's, not restraining but gently squeezing.

"While I approve of your enthusiasm, I doubt this is the place -"

"Then take us out of here," answers Alec, still on his knees, still working on the belt. It's trickier than it looks. "Portal us anywhere. I don't care."

"Alexander," says Magnus, looking troubled. "This is a very sudden change of heart. I must wonder -"

"Oh, I've been foreplaying for two weeks already," Alec growls and finally the belt comes free and he yanks it open, looking up at Magnus and very deliberately licking his lips. Magnus' eyes widen and go darker still and his hands on Alec's shoulders squeeze tight. He clicks his mouth shut and snaps his fingers. Alec feels a twist in his stomach, like he's in a super fast escalator, but that's not important. With clumsy desperate fingers, he unbuttons Magnus' trousers and pushes them down, revealing his underwear. Black silk, no surprises there. He stops there for a moment to stare, in awe of this new reality he finds himself in.

"Alexander-," Magnus starts again, cautious. Alec forces his eyes up. Magnus looks soft and uncertain, his hands on Alec's shoulders.

"Take off your clothes," Alec orders. "All of them."

Magnus raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Please," Alec adds, too impatient to be sincere. If he doesn't get Magnus in his mouth right this very second he's going to die, or at least pass out from pure anticipation.

Still, the second comes and goes and Magnus just stares at him, eyes wide and mouth kissed rosy and somehow still with all of his clothes on. Aggravated, Alec pushes against his leg, for the first time admitting the existence of his own formidable erection.

"I want this," he states simply. "Don't you?"

Something soft and complicated happens around Magnus' eyes. Small muscles relax all over his body and he exhales loudly. Alec blinks and when he opens his eyes Magnus is naked, gloriously naked, and there's a cock poking him in the face, warm and real and he actually whines at the implication.

Because now he's faced with an entirely new dilemma. Everything about Magnus is wondrous and beckoning and there are not enough hours in a day to do even a fraction of the things he wants to do but at least he knows where to start. He looks up at Magnus again, past his cock and his stomach and his nipples and his shoulders and his throat and into his dark, dark eyes, and he says, with utter conviction,

"I need to taste all of you," and that actually makes Magnus gulp and shudder which is delightful in a whole another way, and then he finally, _finally_ opens his mouth and allows himself to take what he wants.

There's a cock in his mouth, hot and solid and slightly salty and Alec will not close his eyes, he will not, he'll nip and suck and lick and stare up at Magnus staring down at him and at last he can breathe.

The expression on Magnus' face goes from surprised to pleased to concentrated, his eyes widening and his pupils growing as Alec sets to learn him. Magnus seems to like it when Alec licks up his length and takes the tip to his mouth, he inhales and exhales in tandem with Alec's careful movements and when Alec opens his mouth wide and takes Magnus in deep his eyes slide close, his head falls back and his grip on Alec's shoulders becomes means for stability and not encouragement. It's the best thing that has ever happened to Alec. Boldened, he sets up a crude rhythm, finds a place for his hands on Magnus' hip bones and sucks until his cheeks hollow. There are tears in his eyes and he wants to never stop, never, this right here is perfection but it's not long before Magnus starts trembling. A low moan fills Alec's ears and Magnus, now tense and shivering, buckles into his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry," he pants and Alec would tell him to shut up except that his mouth is otherwise occupied right now. Instead, he doubles his efforts, sucking and slurping and pulling at Magnus' hips and is rewarded by his moans turning into groans and his fingers digging deep into Alec's skin. Magnus is full on leaning into Alec now, trembling like in a fever and when Alec risks a glance up there's a golden shine on Magnus' face. He's the most beautiful being Alec has ever seen and also about to come deep into his throat.

Magnus seems to realize that too, because he makes a feeble attempt to pull away. Alec isn't having any of it.

"Come on," he growls around his cock, digging his fingers deeper into Magnus' round buttocks and pushing ever closer. His mouth is full of cock and saliva and salty precome and there are stars dancing on the edge of his vision and nothing in the entire history of the world has ever been as important as this moment.

And Magnus actually shouts, in shock or in ecstasy, and gives up trying to hold back. The stars burst forward until they're everywhere, in the air and on his skin, and Alec realizes he's keening along with Magnus, the sounds ripped from him in sympathy, and they have only seconds left until the inevitable oblivion and still he needs more, he needs to witness and chronicle every variation of every sound Magnus makes, every nearly pained expression of the incoming orgasm on his face, every tremble and shiver wrecking the smooth planes of his body.

The fact that Alec is the one doing this to Magnus, a man of literal centuries of sexual escapades under his belt, doesn't escape him. That Magnus is reacting like this to Alec's first - if very earnest - attempt at a blowjob, that he's losing control and actually sobbing, holding to Alec with trembling arms, that Alec is pretty sure he hears a broken 'please' in there as well, that Magnus is coming undone right now, under his hands and in his mouth, that it's his name on Magnus' lips, his tongue under and around Magnus' cock, his fingers digging into Magnus' butt, that _he's_ the one doing this, that he can, he's allowed, that realization is what finally does it.

Magnus cries out, rough and desperate and freezes, not even breathing, and then Alec feels a hot pulse in his mouth and _then_ he's coming too, into his pants like he hasn't in years, and Magnus is panting like he's run a marathon, sliding down and embracing first Alec's head, then his arms, his body, kissing him quickly and sloppily again and again and Alec can't stop crying, why is he crying?

"It's okay," Magnus whispers into Alec's mouth. "It's okay. I've got you, it's okay."

Stars on his skin, Magnus holding him, the taste of him in his mouth, Alec cries and cries and doesn’t understand.


End file.
